My Words Are Bread Crumbs & Gun Shot Residue

Once you decide you are an artist – and mean it – the rest falls away like the clothes of a lover. – Barker Ajax

The nerve of some people.

Just because

he says he’s my doctor.

He asked me a question

I often ask myself,

why do you write?

Good question.

That’s why he has the paneled-office

with the soothing Scandanuvian furniture

in a light oak.

I write because

I cannot sing

or play piano

or draw

or whistle or whittle.

I feel creative.

Like I am going to burst

if I don’t let it out.

That’s not true.

 

Keeps me out of trouble,

gets me into trouble.

Got fired

from my own magazine.

Wrote a hugely popular column

all the advertisers hated.

Published a critically-acclaimed,

award-winning

compendium nobody bought.

Whatever.  Blah, blah.

Doesn’t matter.

 

Thought out of nowhere.

Part of the problem is

many people are trying to do this

sober.

That’s a whole different thing.

 

If it’s fun,

does it matter

if anybody reads it?

I am an optimist,

I know this about myself,

and I am convinced somebody,

somewhere,

sometime,

will read my words.

At the very least, I expect a response.

This is good… this is interesting…

this is shit.

Maybe there’s a pony,

did you ever think of that?

 

I am the artist

who puts the note in the bottle

and sets it off in the outgoing tide.

Thinking a really hot babe

will pick it up on a sunny beach

and wish she could rescue me.

I am the grandfather

with some serious smart offspring

who might uncover my eternal wisdom

on The Cloud.

Wherever the hell that is.

And they’ll think…

wow, DooDah was an amazing hero.

Okay, maybe… what a loser,

and remember

he was Nana’s second husband.

I’ll take my chances.

 

Because let’s be honest,

one of the reasons guys like us write

is so as-many-people-as-possible discover

how fuckin’ cool we are.

How many people does it take

to make you cool?

Never forget to remember,

if you have to announce how cool you are,

you can’t be cool.

Notice I have taken money

right off the table.

Not on the table.

If you are twenty to whatever,

it’s back on the table.

I am like a million years old,

money has lost its charm.

I say that,

because I learned long ago,

money has no idea where I live.

Can’t find me.

 

Only want more attention,

if it meant more money

in my cigar box under the mattress.

Those home health nurses don’t come cheap.

And the friendliest ones want cash.

What I hope happens,

what is likely to happen,

what probably happens,

doesn’t really much matter.

Particularly

if you don’t do the work.

Said this before,

still true,

I’ll be dead,

still waiting…

Spent most of my life

waiting

to be discovered.

Imagine my surprise

to learn,

nobody was looking for me.

Doesn’t mean I’m lost.

 

The nerve of some people.

Asking me questions

I long ago stopped asking myself.

Who are you?  I am a writer.

Very old.

Cool like ice.

Took me all my life

to get here.

Like those glaciers that break off

crying.

 

Hate to learn

somebody came

looking for me

and I left no clues.

 

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